


invisible.

by nyrcella



Category: Marriage Story (2019), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Body Worship, Boss/Employee Relationship, Breathplay, Charlie Has a Big Dick, Charlie is obsessed with Rey’s tits, Creampie, Dancing, Degradation, Doggy Style, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, F/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Praise Kink, Rey is a dancer, Sir Kink, So do I, Spanking, Unsafe Sex, charlie has a deep voice except when he comes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27800731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyrcella/pseuds/nyrcella
Summary: "You've been so good to me, haven't you?" he remarks, releasing his thumb out of her lips to wrap his hand around her neck. But he doesn't squeeze. He just holds it just so. "I have observed everyone, you especially. So eager to please me like a good girl."Rey has a deep crush on her boss, Charlie Barber. All along, she thought she was invisible, watching him from afar.Turns out, she was wrong. So wrong.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Rey (Star Wars), Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 28
Kudos: 216
Collections: Rey in the Adamverse





	invisible.

**Author's Note:**

> Two smutty fics in one week, I’m blessing y’all. 
> 
> I really hope you like it, I think this is one of my favourite things to write. 
> 
> I apologise for any typo in advance or if there’s any tag I forgot!

It doesn't hurt to lust over someone, right? Especially someone out of her league? 

She has been lusting for him from afar, watching quietly in the corner while he instructs his actors to do things his way. Just his way. He's a perfectionist — if things don't go his way, there is a chance he will flip. Shouts louder than the main actors that have to belt out their lines so the audience in the back can hear. 

The only time he will accept suggestions is if they are actually great. If they're great, you're lucky because when he praises, he praises so great. He speaks softly when he does that. Demure. He even praises publicly, telling everyone, _"Listen to them. This is an actor that will go places, who has a vision."_

When she saw he did that during that time Jasmine suggested if she could improvise a little that sounds more like her character, Charlie grins so widely and nods. "Now look at Jasmine," he announces to everyone. Rey remembers boiling with jealousy. "She understands her characters well. This is what I want from my actors. You're good, honey." 

Part of her was of course green with envy. She's hoping that someday, he notices _her._ That he would call her honey or any endearment terms really. Yes, she's just a background character who doesn't even have any line. Just a dancer. But she could still dream. Another part of her is aroused from how quick he shifts from that serious director who shouts and claps his hands as loud as a thunder when he's really pissed off to this gentle, great leader who praises actors who do a great job. 

She'll take both, thank you. 

He's so intense and so passionate for his art. She really does feel lucky to be a part of the play, freshly graduated from high school. The way he clenches his jaw when he watches the performance during the rehearsal, how sharp his gaze is. If he ever looks at her like that, she knows her knees would buckle and she would drop her panties in an instant second. 

But he never even looks at her. She's not playing a significant role. He only pays attention to the actors, the ones that _drive_ the play onwards. 

It still doesn't stop her from thinking about him at night as she touches herself or uses her toys. He would either pound her hard, as intense as he always is, or whispers sweet nothings and preens, _"good girl"_ in her ear. 

She still tries to catch his attention though. She would wear a sports bra and leggings during rehearsal. Or cropped shirts that show off her abs with either bike shorts or pantyhose. But nothing. Cropped tank tops too. Anything that shows off her skin and is breathable for her to move while she dances.

But nothing. He never takes a glance at her. Plus, she's too young for him. That's probably why. That he only sees her as some kid.

"Sorry for being late guys," he tells everyone as he strides in, inserting his phone in his pocket of those trousers that never fit him right. They're always so loose, so baggy. He always wears his cardigans too. Today is one of them, dark blue this time. She wonders how soft his cardigans feel. 

God, if she ever manages to fuck him, the cardigan stays on. 

"Heard he was talking to his ex wife just now," her friend and dance mate, Rose, whispers in her ear. "Whoosh. Hurricane." 

She frowns at Rose. "You were eavesdropping?" she whispers back. 

Rose just grins innocently, shrugging. "I was late just now and I walked past him while he was screaming on the phone about how it's his day and his son is supposed to be staying with him today. I'm so hoping he was too distracted to even notice that I came in late. He did see me but just brushed me off." 

Her crush for him gets to the point where she's envious that Charlie glanced at Rose for a second for walking past him. That's how much she's desperate to be seen by him, to be noticed. "God, I feel sorry for him," she says. "Divorce must suck—" 

That's when Charlie snaps his fingers. "Hey, you two at the back," he calls out. "You dancers."

Ah _shit._ This is how she's getting noticed by Charlie fucking Barber? As if that's not embarrassing enough. 

"Focus please," he says in exasperation. His eyes meet hers and she swears she almost came. Or peed. Because he _finally_ sets his eyes on her. "Just be quiet for a minute and you both can catch up on the latest gossip later." 

The embarrassment is real as her face burns. That is not a nice first impression. She has imagined thousands of scenarios on how she wants to be noticed by him. Maybe while she's dancing and he can't take his eyes off of her. She's not sure. Maybe while he hands coffees to everyone and he winks at her. The only reason he knows her coffee order is because Donna takes the order for her and he buys it. 

Then Donna is the one to hand the coffees to her and the other dancers. 

His gaze is hot on her, so intense that she has the urge to rub her thighs together. Sure, she's still embarrassed and is praying for the ground to open up to swallow her whole. But she's also pretty transfixed by his stare. She could feel her stomach flip in both anxiousness and arousal. 

The moment is over when he peels his eyes off of her. That has to be the most intense thing she has ever experienced, which shows how dull her life is. Just one stare from Charlie Barber and her world turns upside down. She lets out her breath that she doesn't realise she has been holding in. 

"What's wrong with you?" Rose asks like she just grew two heads. "Your face looks red as hell. It's not that bad."

But Rey doesn't answer, afraid that they might be chided in public again. 

-

They’re teaching a new number where partners are involved. She's partnered up with one of her friends here, Finn, which is perfect because he's one of the people she's closest to here other than Rose. It's for one of the romantic numbers where everyone is partnered up.

"Hi," she says with a grin as she begins wrapping one arm around his shoulder and lets his hand clasp hers. 

He grins back, that charming smile of his. She feels comfortable around him and she's so grateful to have him here. With the instruction of Sophie, the choreographer here, they begin dancing according to the music. 

With Finn, it's easy to fall back into routine while having fun. He makes funny commentaries yet his gracefulness never falters. She looks at the other dancers who seem serious with each other, even Rose. Even Sophie compliments their moves, making her feel proud. She laughs, she dances, she talks. Dancing with Finn feels all breezy and light, like she’s walking on air. 

But then Charlie Barber enters the studio with that authoritative vibe that he emanates, commanding the whole room. The air shifts around her, definitely thicker and heavy because of his presence. She almost stumbles on her foot to which Finn is quick to stabilise her with his hand around her waist. She murmurs a quick _"thank you"_ as she attempts her best to memorise the routine again. 

As if on cue, she meets Charlie’s eyes when he glances at her, coaxing a gasp out of her. Finn seems to sense it when he starts leading the choreography for her while her body weakens. She snaps out of it when Charlie turns his attention back to Mary Ann, his assistant.

Making her feel invisible again. For a minute, there was a flicker of hope inside her that he actually noticed her. But it lasted for only a minute. 

"You alright, babe?" Finn asks, leading the dance again. 

She looks at her friend and nods curtly. "Yeah, sorry. I was just nervous. Ya know, he's the..." She clears her throat, feeling blush creeping up her cheeks. "He's the director." 

Finn doesn't seem convinced but he lets it slide. But even as they pick up where they're left off, she swears she still feels his eyes on her, digging a hole on her nape. 

-

Charlie suddenly announces that he wants to do some sort of a bootcamp because some people are still not able to dance. "We have few weeks until the opening night and I'm not satisfied with any of you," he shouts in petulance with his hands in his pockets. His pose is casual and relaxed but his voice isn't. 

As always, she stands at the very back. Feeling shy and insignificant. She's not that much of an expert like the rest of the people here. Even she feels ashamed of not being able to satisfy this man for some reason. Him being disappointed affects her deeply, oddly. She knows it's difficult to please a man like him, which is why she's eager to be the best for him. 

He crosses his arms then, tapping his mouth with his finger while his eyes are glowering at everyone. Looking so serious, so terrifying. Oh god, he's so hot. "This bootcamp should help you with your moves. Loosen your hips a little, guys. Please. You don't want to not only embarrass me, but yourselves." 

There are sounds of sighs among the dancers and the actors. 

"Rey Summers," he suddenly calls out. 

She jumps and just freezes on the spot, too scared to even move. She has dreamed of him saying her name so many times that she's not surprised if this is also one of her dreams. Oh god. What's going on? She pinches her arm a couple of times, trying to wake up. 

But she's still here, heart hammering against her chest. 

And to think, that her hair is in pigtails today, looking like a 12-year-old. 

"Rey Summers," he repeats, raising his voice. He walks a little until he could find her since she's hiding behind everyone. 

"Rey," Rose hisses beside her, elbowing her. 

And then he finally finds her, staring right into her eyes. "I called you," he says in that deep voice of his, gaze fixated on her. "Come out here. Now." 

She wishes she could but her knees are buckling. She holds Rose's arm tightly, too scared she might fall. Gulping. He knows her name. Charlie Barber not only knows her name, but also knows whose face belongs to that name. All this time, she thought she was invisible. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he tells her gently, flashing that crooked smile like he’s approaching a scared animal. Making her eyes water. "Come here." 

The way he says come here is so gentle yet demanding, which is so hot. When she realises everyone is looking at her either impatiently or oddly, she finally lifts her foot and moves ahead, slowly walking like she's on the brink of death. "Y-yes, sir?" she stammers, perplexed. 

He then grabs a hold of her arm and holy fucking shit, his hand is the size of her whole forearm. Her eyes nearly bulge out of the sockets. That shouldn't make her so horny but here she is. He leads her towards in front of everyone. Oh no. She's in trouble. He's going to tell her to get the fuck away. 

But no. He puts his arm around her shoulder, causing her stomach to flutter. "Rey is going to teach you all the choreography since she's the most competent dancer here." 

Her eyes are widened so much, she's afraid her eyeballs might bulge out of the sockets. "Sir?" she asks. Why the fuck does she keep referring to him as sir like an idiot? 

"I've noticed how much of a great dancer you are. So I'm gonna ask a big favour from you to teach these idiots, alright?" 

He—He noticed her? "O-Okay," she squeaks. 

"Go on, sweetheart," he goads with a genuine smile, catching her off guard. 

She swallows, nodding. 

_Get your shit together, Rey. You're horny. So what? Do this, make your ballet teachers proud._

Widening her stance, she looks at everyone. They all seem unwilling, probably because they have to do this and follow her steps. Taught by some kid. She attempts her best at smiling as friendly as she could. "Okay, everyone. Follow my steps, please." 

As she starts the choreography step by step, she definitely feels his eyes glued on her. She tries to ignore it for her own sanity. But she has a feeling that he's looking at her in his usual pose — crossed arms and knuckles under his chin. 

"Look at her posture, guys," he tells everyone. "Look at the way Rey is completely in sync with the song and she adds some emotional depth in it." 

She does? She doesn't even realise that. 

"That's good, Rey, just like that," he goads, almost making her stumble on her own feet from his praise. 

It's innocent but it just... sounds so dirty. She knows how flushed her cheeks must look. It’s definitely not helping that he keeps saying her name.

She has to demonstrate with a partner this time so of course she calls out her friend. Finn walks forward with his million watt smile, but then his smile falters. She's about to drag him out here when she feels an arm circling around her waist. 

A big arm. 

"Let me demonstrate for you guys," Charlie says with his kind voice behind her, jolting her. All the dancers clap and whoop for him, they obviously have the same admiration for him the way she does. Even though he can be terrifying, he's a pretty great boss actually. 

So when he's disappointed, you know it's bad. 

Just like she has guessed, his cashmere cardigan feels soft under her palm. 

She tries to get her shit together, mustering up her courage to move while he's leading the dance. His hands are scalding, the heat seeps through her shirt. He could have just made Sophie do this since she's the choreographer, then why is she dragged instead? 

_Make your boss proud, Rey. Make Charlie Barber proud._

Impressively, he memorises the routine as well, showing that he's not just a director and a screenwriter. He still needs to polish up his skills though. She has googled him before (like a creep) and it is said that he used to be a theatre kid in high school and he attended an art school in NYU. So maybe that's how he knows how to do all this? 

This is the closest she has ever gotten to him. Way too close actually. She dreams about him too much that this alone already affects her way too much yet at the same time, she craves for more. His spiced cologne wafts her nose, instantly drawing her in, her clit already pulsating with need. Pheromone is a real shit because just sniffing his nice minty cologne already causes her mouth to froth. God, her mouth feels dry as fuck. 

They face each other and he tugs her chin so she'll look at him. Arousal coils up her stomach at the gesture. He's so much more handsome up close, which sounds incredibly impossible because he's already so beautiful to watch. She could count every mole and freckle on his face. While she sees how beautiful his eyes are and his nose is, her rapt attention is mainly on those lips — plump and kissable. 

She finds herself licking her own lips as she salivates. His eyes follow her tongue. 

When he speaks again, his blaring voice catches her by surprise, immediately knocking her out of her lewd thoughts about him. "Everyone, partner up too and watch how Miss Summers and I do it."

She's pretty sure her face is all flushed because of how scorching she feels. But she still tries best to compose herself. She watches as Sophie circles the room to check everyone's posture. 

"You're quite a talented dancer, Miss Summers," he comments. She feels a little self conscious under his vehement stare. 

But she smiles anyway. "Thank you," she replies, clearing her throat when she hears her cracked voice. 

"You kind of overshadowed your partner since you shine on your own. Flynn, is it?" 

He's kidding, right? "It's _Finn,"_ she corrects him, surprised by how concise she sounds. Sure, those are only two words there but still. 

He flashes an apologetic look at her. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm terrible at names." Here she thought he memorises everyone's name here like a great employer.

But he knows hers though. Her _full_ name. But it's not that difficult to remember her name, is it? though a lot of people have mistaken her name as either Rachel or May, even. She tries not to overthink, fearing she might get her hopes up. But it’s hard not to harbour some hopes when she’s so clouded by her desperation to be noticed by him.

As if he could read her mind, he looks at her through heavy lids. "I remember yours because you're the brightest dancer here." 

_Not Jasmine?_ She bites her tongue to keep herself from sniping that. He warns her before he dips her, which takes trust. But she trusts him with her life. It could be because she has been harbouring her feelings for him for too long. But she does. She trusts him. 

When he releases her from his arms, she feels the loss. Now that she has felt what it feels like to be that close to him, she never wants it to end. 

At the end of the day, Donna, the costume designer of the play suddenly comes up to her while she's hydrating herself. "Charlie needs you to stay back a little late today. And well, everyday. Is that alright?" 

Her lips are parted but she's too tongue tied to speak. 

Donna just nods. "I'd take that as a yes." 

Putting her bottle down, she clears her throat. "Yes. Um, yes, I can—I can do that." 

Donna beams at her. "That's great." Before Rey could say anything else, Donna has already left. 

As everyone scurries home, that's when she realises that he only asked _her_ to stay back.

Which means, they’re going to be alone. Just the two of them here, in the studio. 

There's nothing for her to be worried about, right? She has already packed her stuff in her gym bag and now she's just waiting for him to get out of his office. So she stretches a little, placing her foot on the bar, facing the mirror. Then she reaches her foot with her hand, not realising that he's already out of his office and is behind her now. 

She suppresses her gasp when she feels his hand on hers, helping her reach her foot. He's so close that she feels his crotch on the globe of her ass. 

"Charlie," she utters out in surprise, looking at him through the mirror. "I mean, um, sir?" 

He helps put her foot down to the floor, caging her body by holding the bar on each of her sides. "Hi," he murmurs in her ear. 

Shivers run down her spine when he does that. "H-Hi," she sputters, her chest rises and falls way too obviously. 

"I've actually been meaning to talk to you for so long," he admits, his breath hot on her ear. 

"W—What?" It's a bad day to wear a v-neck shirt today because even her chest is pink from how flushed she is. "Y-You have?" 

"I do," he asks darkly, still gazing at her in the mirror. "You probably always think you're invisible while trying to catch my attention but you're all I notice, sweetheart. All those skin tight clothes? All those clothes that show your skin?" 

She takes a sharp intake of breath. 

His mouth twitches into a smirk. "You went from wearing oversized t-shirts and sweatpants to, well..." His fingers trail down from her chest, then along her bare arms since she's wearing her sleeveless top today, down to her bare thighs. _"This."_

Fuck. Oh fuck. He noticed since her first day of rehearsal. He has always noticed her. "I just m-moved to New York," she stammers, gulping. "Maybe I just had a makeover, moving to the big city." Wow. She's pretty proud that she manages to form a full coherent sentence. 

He clicks his tongue, chuckling a little. "I caught you staring a lot, sweetheart," he muses. "You're so wrapped up in your world, you sometimes forgot there are mirrors. All those longing looks." His hand trails to her apex, almost palming her with his massive hand. "Rubbing your thighs together." 

She almost sobbed, arousal starting to pool down her center. She rolls her lower lip between her teeth, so aching for his touch. "Sir," she breathes out. 

When he steps closer to her, closing their distance, she hiccups at the feeling of his bulge on the small of her back. She couldn't help but part her lips, breathing audibly. The thought of her being able to affect him that way is... something she will never get used to. 

"Don't take your eyes off of the mirror," he instructs in her ear, his hand wandering around her clothed chest—from her lymph nodes to around her sternum, then around her abs, before settling under her boobs. Kneading and massaging. Anywhere but on her pebbled nipples. Just tracing the shape of her tits. He stares at her small tits in awe, like he just knows that she's not really a big fan of them. His hands seem much bigger than her tits, which shouldn't affect her this much. But it does, it affects her a lot. 

She could only afford to watch while breathing heavily. 

His stare is intense and piercing, lips grazing her cheek. "Look at yourself," he coos, still familiarising her tits with his hands by skimming them. That feels honestly amazing. Everywhere he has touched, it burns her skin. "How could you think that I wouldn't notice you?" 

That emits a moan out of her parted lips. She almost loses her balance, but his chest is like a brick, steadying herself. She gulps nervously, certainly never expecting this to ever happen to her. Not in her wildest dreams. When she first met him, he was still married. 

As if luck is on her side, now he's not. 

He cards her hair to the side so that her neck is exposed. She feels the tip of his nose gliding along her skin. That nose that she has always wondered what it feels like to ride on. "Your skin is so smooth, my Rey," he comments darkly. Then he breathes her in, like she's a delicate flower. He makes a throaty sound, shuddering a little. "Exquisite." 

One of his hands navigates its way to her chin, tugging her lower lip down. He parts her lip and inserts his thumb inside her mouth. Tracing her teeth. She's not sure why, but she lets him anyway. 

"Wonder how this mouth would look," he murmurs, looking at her through the mirror. "When it's wrapped around my cock." 

A gasp elicited her mouth at his wanton word. When those dirty words come out from his pretty mouth, with his deep voice, the effect is ten times stronger than when they're uttered by anyone else. 

"You've been so good to me, haven't you?" he remarks, releasing his thumb out of her lips to wrap his hand around her neck. But he doesn't squeeze. He just holds it just so. "I have observed everyone, you especially. So eager to please me like a good girl."

Her breath hitches at the praise. She knows how soaked her underwear is right now because of this man. It's difficult to fight her urge to rub her thighs together. 

"But I know you're immaculate not to just please me." He burrows his nose in her hair. "You've pleased me, yes. But it’s because you are a star, aren’t you? You have it in you, Rey from nowhere." 

It is true. She is from nowhere and then somehow she manages to score a place here. Doing a Broadway show. Everyone here is from Juilliard except her. Doesn't make her any more special now, does it? 

Kissing her shoulder, he looks at the mirror again, holding her gaze. His hand is still on neck and she's amazed again at how huge his hand is. One of the things she dislikes is her neck. Too short for her liking. Not long and slim. But the only necklace that complements her neck is apparently his hand. 

He then turns her body so that the mirror is facing her arm before he steps in front of her. There is a determination in his eyes as if he has made up his mind on what he's going to do to her. With the hand on her neck, it slides up to where her jaw is and he squeezes it so he could pull her face to his and crush his lips on hers. 

Even after the kneading and the teasing, the kiss still takes her by surprise. Nothing could prepare for this, not even those late nights pondering what it would be like to taste his soft, warm lips, nothing could compare. 

She feels his hand behind her head as he cards through her hair, yanking her head to the back so he could deepen the kiss just the way he likes. Even though he's literally squeezing her jaw right now, he still feels the need to control her by the head too. She loves how he just takes whatever however he wants. 

Her hand reaches for the bar handle to steady herself when her knees buckle. It's just, he's really devouring her face and she loves that. She detects a hint of cigarette and mint when he swipes his tongue along her lips so she could part them for him. 

Just when she thinks it's impossible to get even closer, he closes the distance between them until their bodies are flushed together. She has no idea what to do with her other hand so she just grabs the hem of his soft cardigan and crumples it in her fist. 

She lets out an embarrassing whine as his tongue explores her mouth. Maybe cigarette mixed with mint is her favourite flavour. Especially if it's from his mouth. She's impossibly horny right now, desperate for some friction on her cunt. 

"I've been dreaming to do this for ages," he grunts against her lips, chewing her lower lip. "God, you taste as sweet as I've imagined." 

She inhales his breath while his hand skims her neck. Between her crush for him and the intensity in his kiss, it gets pretty overwhelming. 

A good kind of overwhelming where it leaves it her breathless and her head spins. 

The grip he has on her jaw tightens as he takes and he takes, eating her face, his lips hot on hers. It feels endless as he truly savours her mouth. After a while, he tears his lips from hers, peppering kisses down to her jaw. His hand releases her hair while the one that's holding her jaw turns her face until she's looking at herself in the mirror. 

"Don't peel your eyes off of the mirror," he instructs, sucking the crescent that connects her neck to her shoulder. "I want you to watch what I'm doing to you."

What—

He kneels down in front of her like she's his altar and she watches to see that his eyes are on the same level as her tits. That's how tall he is, how massive he is. He clutches the hem of her top and yanks it up to her breastbone. He does it all so slowly, taking his sweet, sweet time. Since she's wearing her sports bra underneath, he could easily pull it up until her tits are exposed. Oh god, she's exposed in front of her director. 

And then he blows a hot breath on her puckered nipples, igniting frisson along her cells. 

"Oh," she heaves in surprise, gripping the bar tighter. "Sir." 

He runs his fingers through his hair so it won't get in the way of whatever he's gonna do to her. "You're so beautiful, my darling Rey." He sticks his tongue out and licks a hot stripe of her freckles around her breast, connecting the dots. She sucks a deep breath, keeping herself together. And then he goes for it — he closes his mouth between her breasts, sucking it. Kittenish at first, but that lasts for about four seconds when he really devours it like a starving man.

There. In the mirror. She could see that sinful mouth, a hint of red tongue, some teeth grazing her skin, on her breast and around the nub. She looks down then, seeing his nose digging into the flesh of her left boob, where her heartbeat is. That sight is too much for her so she tilts her head back. 

He grasps the small of her back, pulling her close to him until her back is arched for him. "Did I tell you that you could look away?" he asks, muffled by her skin because he just refuses to tear himself away from her.

"N-No, sir," she gasps out. With a wavered movement, she turns her head to the mirror again.

He continues ravishing on her, licking, sucking, kissing, devouring. "God, your tits are made for this." He uses his hand to cup and massage the twin so it doesn't feel abandoned. 

French people really know what they're saying when they described orgasm as a little death because right now, she feels like her soul is leaving her body and ascending to the 7th gate of heaven instead. She could feel it unfurl inside her, the orgasm. She's writhing in his arm, her knuckles turning white from gripping the bar too tightly. The word 'please' is on the tip of her tongue but too fearful to escape. 

"Can you come like this?" he grounds out gutturally. "Can you, baby?" 

Well it's very possible at this point. But she can barely form a coherent sentence, only managing to make breathing sounds from her throat. Moans. Whimpers. Sharp intake of breath. He hums, he sucks, he kneads. He flicks her nipple with his thumb, caressing. At some point, he's really taking her whole breast inside his massive mouth, taking her by surprise.

The sight is... so hot.

When his teeth graze her bruised nub, she uses her free hand to comb his thick hair. She's not sure for what, maybe to encourage him more. To push her chest closer towards him. To tell him through body language that she loves this and please keep going while she still hasn't found her voice. And he's so understanding of this, swirling his tongue around her nipple. 

He finally switches to the other breast and he does the same thing as he did earlier. Except this time, she's even more sensitive, all her senses heightening. She's sure that she's currently tugging his hair tightly, hurting his scalp, but he's not complaining. She forces her eyes to stay glued to the glass mirror, letting him sweetly torture her like this. 

"Fuck, you're so sexy, Rey," he grunts, never stopping. God, his voice. That voice. "So fucking _sexy._ Never met anyone sexier than you. Shit, I love your tits so much." 

The praise sends warm caramel down her lungs, blooming her whole body. "Oh, fuck," she sighs when he takes her whole boob in his mouth again like he does the twin, using his fingers to lift it up to better accommodate him. 

He's really savouring this, savouring the taste of her in his mouth. She has always known a man so particular like him would know how to appreciate what he enjoys. And she likes this, likes being savoured like a brand new wine. The moaning sounds bring her closer and closer to the edge. The grip she has on the bar handle feels so tight, she could as well bend it. Break it. 

With each flick, each tease on her pebbled nub, her head starts to spin from the electrifying feeling. Her fingers keep carding through his hair, feeling the urge to rip it off from frustration because she wants to come so badly. 

"Could fucking write a play about your fucking tits," he groans.

Well, she would love to see that. 

But much as she loves this, loves this a lot actually, she's feeling a little greedy. It's just, she has been dreaming about his mouth too much. On her breasts, yeah, but mainly on her aching slicked center. "S-Sir," she rasps. "Touch me." 

"I _am_ touching you." Oh, he knows what she's saying but that smirk on his face shows that he's just trying to torture her. 

"Touch me where I need," she whimpers. "Fuck me, please. Just do anything but please touch me." 

"Use your words, sweetheart," he says hoarsely, circling his tongue over her nipple. "I need you to be clear. Where do you want me to touch you?" 

"On m—my — on my pussy," she hiccups. 

When he releases her nipple from his lips, his mouth creates the pop sound. "Say my name. I love how you call me _'sir'_ but I wanna hear my name on your lips." 

She gulps. "C-Charlie," she murmurs. 

His guttural groan reverberates the room. "Now ask me to touch your pussy and say my name after that," he orders. 

Sweat beads her forehead as she musters her courage. "T-Touch my cunt, Charlie," she stutters.

His brows perk up as he looks at her, obviously not expecting her to use that word. The devilish grin slowly spreads on his face. "That's my good girl, asking for what she wants. You're my good girl, are you, sweetheart?" He lifts his hand from her chest to caress her cheek. 

His warm lips trail lower along her navel, blowing out his breath along the way. Sending shivers down her spine. For a moment, he just teases her apex with his mouth, not even taking off her pants. His nose nudges her clit over her pants, emitting a moan out of her. It's so easy for him to just navigate his way even without looking at her nub.

The moment is over when he stands up. She's about to protest when he turns her so she could face the mirror again while he’s behind her. "I have a feeling you weren't really listening when I told you to keep your eyes on the mirror."

She whimpers, watching her chest rises and falls, her puckered tits still bare for both of them to see. "I—I'm sorry, sir. Uh, Charlie." 

He just chuckles as he winds his arms around her, the deep chuckle vibrates behind her. "Oh, what am I going to do with you?" he croons. "You can keep calling me sir. I'll tell you when I need you to say my name. Okay, baby?" 

She nods fervently. 

"Use your words, Rey." 

"Y-Yes, sir. Okay, sir." 

Since he likes things the way he wants, he lifts one of her knees up and rests her foot on the bar so that her legs are wide open. Easy access. Not that she's complaining. She doesn't mind that he does all the work and acts as if she's malleable, letting him mould her like a doll. 

It makes her feel like she's his muse. Him. An artist. 

He dips his hand inside her gym shorts after her foot rests on the bar, causing her breath to hitch in surprise. "Keep looking at the mirror, baby," he purrs as his middle finger brushes against her clit. She stifles a sob, almost dropping her foot. He starts putting a pressure on her clit just so, not doing anything else. No flicking. No circling. No rubbing. Just pressing on it. 

She makes a noise in her throat to protect, desperate for him to do at least _something._ Maybe stroking her, teasing her. God, this is a teasing but the torturous kind. "Charlie," she grits out his name. 

As soon as she said that, he wraps his free hand around her throat. "Behave," he demands in her ear. "Only good girls get to be fucked properly." 

She gasps audibly, mouth opened wide in surprise. Panting heavily. "I'm sorry," she squeaks. Though she loves it, being treated this way. Very, _very_ much. 

In all honesty, looking at herself in the mirror while he's doing this to her, she feels sexy. She could feel the tingle in her cunt, pulsing with need. 

The corner of his smirk is tugged into a little smirk. "Good girl," he preens, causing the temperature of her body to increase to probably a hundred degrees. Months of her fantasising of being praised by one of the most intense men she has ever met, the real thing is so much better than her dreams.

His fingers tentatively prod her folds, picking up the slick. His hand is still around her neck but he doesn’t put a pressure on it. He smiles in satisfaction when he feels how wet she is. He retreats his hand out of her pants and tastes her, groaning. "Put down your foot and take off your pants. Now." 

She obeys with a gasp, her muscle has tensed so much that she feels relief when she puts down her leg. When he releases her neck out of his grip, she slides her gym shorts, letting it drop to the floor. She kicks it to the side, leaving her in only her cotton panties and her shirt hiked up to her shoulders. He crosses his arms, gesturing that she's not done yet. Right. Her underwear. 

Tucking her thumbs under the waistband of her underwear, she glissades it down, her ass rubbing against his crotch throughout the process. "Pick it up," he goads before she could straighten herself up.

So she does, handing it to him as she stands up. He closes her hand with his, gathering the cotton in his fist before he keeps it in his back pocket. It's such a perverse thing but she likes it, leaving a souvenir for him. Now she's naked from her chest to her feet. She feels a little funny, still having her shirt twisted around her collarbones.

"Foot on the bar again," he demands, helping her lift her leg. Her breath hitches when she sees how bare her cunt is for both of them to see now that she has spread her legs open. His hands roam around her body, from her neck, to her arms, to her navel, down to her thighs. His fingers circle around her stretch marks around her abdomen almost soothingly. When he does that, she could feel the shivers along her spine. "God, look how perfect you are.”

Heat blooms from her chest to her cheeks at the praise. She’s so glad she has trimmed her pussy even though she wished she had shaved it bare had she known she’s going to be exposed like this. But he doesn’t seem to mind, instead he seems transfixed. God, the way he stares. Her whole body heats up because of how intense he’s staring at her. 

His hand navigates itself until it reaches her pussy. He uses his pointing and middle fingers to nudge her labia open, showing how glistening she is down there. “So pink,” he comments. Closing his two fingers together, he prods her nub, stealing a gasp out of her. “You have a perfect pussy, you know that?” 

Hopefully that’s a rhetorical question because she couldn’t find her voice yet. Her words still linger in her throat, shy to come out. What she knows is that her cunt is desperate to be filled, to be stuffed by him. 

“So responsive for me,” he murmurs, his breath fanning her ear. “It’s like you’re made for me and I’m made for you. Such a _good_ girl.” 

She shivers at the praise, leaning on his chest. She feels so small and she just revels in it. He’s just—he’s so strong and so big. And he coaxes this kind of reaction out of her. She likes being his good girl. 

He circles her swollen clit while watching her. Both her face and her cunt. At times, her exposed tits. “It’s preposterous that you could think of yourself as invisible when your presence _demands_ attention. When you’re magnetising to watch.” 

Her breath hitches. 

“I have to force myself to look away because I know once I see you,” His deft fingers trail lower, to where her entrance is. “I wouldn’t be able to look away.” He crooks his fingers, teasing her. 

In the mirror, she could see her chin quivering, her chest fluttering at his words. At what he’s doing to her. “Sir,” she pants. She’s so sensitive, so desperate to come after what feels like hours of him getting to know her body, exploring her body. 

He hums. “I think you’re ready,” he says, jabbing her entrance. “You’re gonna keep your eyes on the mirror when I fuck you, okay?”

“Okay,” she answers meekly. 

When his hand leaves her cunt, she already misses it. From the mirror, he’s looking down as he rummages for something. When she hears a crinkling sound that probably belongs to a certain foil, she speaks up. “I—I was hoping I could feel you bare.” 

His eyes look up as he stills, looking in the mirror over her shoulder The smirk is wiped off his face. “What?” he croaks out.

“Nothing,” she says hurriedly, gulping. 

“Are you on birth control?” he prods. 

“Implant,” she stammers. “Are you clean? You don’t seem like you have time to have sex unless you also fuck other people from this company—” 

“No one,” he interjects. “I mean… no. There was one time at a bar after my divorce was finalised few weeks ago but I used protection and I got tested—” 

Her face heats up at how accusing she sounds. “I believe you.” She also doesn’t want to hear more of his other conquests. She also _really_ needs to get laid really badly by this hot refrigerator. 

Flashing her a satisfied smirk, she hears the sound of the metal clanking as he unbuckles his belt followed by the sound of a zipper. After she hears the sound of fabrics swooshing as they fall down, that’s when she feels something poking the small of her back. Something hard. Something intimidatingly _big._

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._

She still awkwardly has her leg on the bar, waiting for him. He widens his stance to reach her height (though obviously he’s still so much taller). With one arm circling her midriff, he angles his as he leads the head of his cock on her opening. In the mirror, the sight is obscured. She could barely make out the shape and the size of his shaft, though she could feel it. But when lets go of her midriff and grabs her leg that was resting on the bar, folding her knee close to her chest, that’s when sees it. Thick and huge and pink and veiny and so pretty. 

Bracing herself for his size, she feels as he gathers up her slick before he pushes himself in. She gasps out at how full she already feels while he’s still easing himself inside her. “Fuck,” he groans, mouthing on her neck as he slides in. “You’re so _small._ So sweet. I should have opened you up with my fingers.” 

She shakes her head, her cheeks flushed from the sight of his shaft stretching her channel. “I—I like it. You feel snug inside me.” Her eyes zero in the way she sucks him in, inch by inch. It’s mesmerising to watch, even when this all feels so debauched. Pornographic. 

He uses his free hand to snake down her body to the apex between her thighs where he’s currently sliding inside right now. With his two fingers, he unfurls her folds to flaunt where they are joined together. It feels so much dirtier like this, so lewd and exposed. She feels her stomach coils at the sight, burning inside her. 

“Ah, so my baby likes it when I stretch her cute little cunt, hmm?” 

Those _filthy_ words. Makes her want to please him even more, breathing through her stomach while he inches inside. 

“You’re taking my whole cock so well,” he murmurs, his breath hot on her ear. “Are you, sweetheart? Are you my good girl?” 

Even though he’s demanding an answer from her, she couldn’t find her voice. Her lips are parted but her tongue is tied to speak. No, because 1) she’s being filled up and 2) she has no idea her pussy could be stretched that wide. It’s both terrifying and arousing to watch what his massive cock does to her cunt. 

It hurts. But it hurts _so_ good. 

Full. That’s what it feels like when he finally fully sinks inside her to the brim, his pelvis meeting her rear. Emitting a gasp out of her lips. How did he fit inside her? She leans on his chest, his heat radiating off of her. He gives her a coy look when he looks at her through the mirror, not moving or making a sound. The only sound that fills the room is her heaving. His hand trails up to her stomach, compressing it until she could feel his cock inside her. 

Which is a _lot._

Fuck. That’s how big he is. What the _fuck._

He grabs her by the waist as he lowers himself down just by an inch, she gasps out the moment he snaps his hips up again. The arm around her knee really keeps her stretched out for him to fill her. She’s glad he’s holding on to her because she could barely steady herself, just malleable enough for him. 

When he does it the second time, that’s when her voice manages to form a word. “ _Sir!_ ” she sobs. Her hand searches for something to cling onto and it finds its way towards his silky hair behind her. She could feel his nails digging into her waist as he rocks his hips, stuffing her. Her cunt pulsates with every thrust, welcoming the stretch. “Charlie!” 

“Ah, so you _can_ speak now,” he muses gutturally. “So you can answer now, can you? Are you a good girl?” 

“Yes!” she whines.

“Are you my baby girl?” he asks darkly, adjusting his hips and fucking her harder almost mercilessly.

It’s too much now, with how sensitive her cunt feels. How good he feels inside. “Hmm!” she manages to let out. 

He puts her foot back on the bar to release her knee and makes his way to her neck again, as if he has a fascination towards it. He squeezes this time, but not enough to cut off her airflow. “With words, baby. I need a clear yes or no.”

She sobs, bellowing _“yes I am!”_ hurriedly and almost closing her eyes since she can barely keep them open anymore. 

The grip he has on her neck tightens. “Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he commands. “Watch what I’m doing to you.” 

But her lids feel so _heavy._ She’s so full, so stuffed, so overstimulated. Her whole limbs are so weak, she feels like a rag doll as he uses her and buries himself inside her to the hilt. 

She pants for breath as his hand squeezes her neck firmly, her eyes are instantly opened because he’s _choking_ her. “Tap my arm if you want me to release your neck,” he whispers. 

She doesn’t. Instead, her hand tries to reach for the bar in front of her. Maybe the mirror. That seems to give him an idea as he pulls her waist to the back with him and then shoves her by the shoulder, her face is so close to the mirror now. Her breath fogs the glass as she stares at herself in the eye. 

Hand around her nape, he tilts her head up and plunges himself inside her. She tightens her grip she has on the bar while her other hand reaches to cling onto the mirror to steady herself from hitting her face on the mirror as he pounds inside her hard, until her tits are jiggling in the mirror.

“Jesus fuck,” he grits out, mid thrust. “You’re so— _tight._ Does my dirty slut like my cock? Hmm?”

She sobs, gasping for breath since he’s squeezing her neck. His decadent words cause her to clench around his cock, until he groans and holds her waist tighter. “Yes!” she exclaims, her heart thumping against her rib cage.

He stops massaging her nape and fists her hair instead, lugging her head. “Look,” he growls gutturally, “at how good you’re taking me.” 

“Oh god, Charlie,” she whines, the bar rattling in her hand with every thrust. He keeps angling himself differently to hit every spot inside her that he could. “Please!” 

He doesn’t stop. He just keeps going, massaging her neck and picking up his pace. And she just _takes_ it, takes what he’s giving her. “All those times of you thinking you’re invisible, I’ve been imagining just how small you are.” 

From the mirror, she could see that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of her yet. Watching her intently with a clenched jaw. She watches the tendons on his neck pop out every time he thrusts. It’s too much but she basks in it anyway. 

“You had _no_ idea, did you? I’ve been imagining how much you would look like a filthy slut if I ever take you like this. I’ve actually thought of marking every inch of this place with remnants of us. So that no matter where you look, you’ll remember what it feels like to be impaled by my cock.” 

Her lips part in awe before he moves again, hitting her in the gut too. The tears well up her eyes at the intensity of it all. 

“You want to come, baby girl? Does my baby girl want to come?” 

She nods fervently. 

That earns a smack on her ass cheek. “Verbally. Let me hear that pretty voice.” 

The smack brings her closer to the edge as she spasms. “Y-yes, sir!” she cries out, sniffling. “Please let me come. I’m so close.” 

“Good girl,” he praises. “I'm gonna make you come so hard, baby.” 

She preens at the praise and she swears she feels him _swelling_ inside her, filling every gap. He pulsates inside her, like he’s close too. She could only manage to push herself backwards to meet his animalistic thrust. “Oh,” she gasps as she starts shaking. 

He makes a strangled noise, the cadence of his thrust starting to become sloppier. “Come on, baby, take it,” he coaxes, hoisting her ass up towards him. The loud slapping sound echoes the walls from how ruthless he is, causing her stomach to tighten in pleasure. “Come on my cock, baby.” 

Like an avalanche, the dam breaks as she convulses. “Oh my god,” she moans as she clenches around him and just _lets go._ All she sees is stars blinking behind her eyes when she squeezes her eyes shut. It’s too much. Too much that her head starts spinning and her stomach swirling. When she opens her eyes, she can see it in the mirror. The glow on her cheeks. She looks debauched and glowing at the same time, eyes watering and sweat trickling down her forehead and brows.

Charlie keeps pounding inside her through her aftershocks, lurching inside her. He chases his own climax brutally, his voice goes a little higher. From the deep baritone to this desperate whine. He looks so different from the Charlie she knows, the Tony Award winner Broadway director. 

The award winning director is composed with silent demeanour as he commands the whole room, only raising his voice when people don’t listen to him. Even when he screams, he sounds composed, just loud and concise. Sometimes his silence sounds so much louder than when he screams, expressing his disappointment through his posture and expressions, intimidating everyone. 

But this Charlie right now that’s currently fucking her _loses_ control. He lets go, veins popping out and voice seeping with desperation. He releases her hair and holds her jaw instead, inserting his thumb inside her mouth. “Suck,” he grunts, his thrust never falters. She does what she’s told, sucking his thumb eagerly. 

The sight seems to drive him insane as he groans. After a few thrusts, he shudders and spurts his seed inside her, filling her to the brim. It feels like it lasts forever as he keeps stuffing her with his cum, letting out a high pitched gasp. She could feel the warmth of his cum inside her. He lets go of her hip and instead he wraps his arm around her torso while he comes, burrowing his nose inside the crook of her neck. “Fuck, Rey,” he moans, his breath hot on her neck, his body blanketing her back.

For a moment, they just stay frozen without saying anything. Catching their breaths. Contemplated what they had just done. He’s still inside her, semi hard now. Her tits are still jutted out. She feels his lips on her shoulder, feathery and light. His thumb is out of her mouth now. 

What should she depict from this? Is this a one time thing? Should she just ignore what just happened when she goes back to work this Monday? What does she say? 

“You were amazing,” he tells her, nipping her earlobe. “You really are an artist, you move with such finesse.” 

Why does he sound so… _professional?_ What does the sex mean to him? She searches for something written on his face through the mirror. He just seems sated, that’s all. Relieved. 

He still refuses to pull out. “What are you doing after this?” he asks casually. 

She’s still dazed from… everything. She could still feel him in her lower gut. “Hmm?” 

“I’d like to take you to dinner if you… want to.” 

“You want to go have dinner? With me?” she stammers. 

He smiles, never breaking his lips off of her skin. “Yeah. On a date.” 

Carefully, she straightens herself up, along with him. Then she leans against his broad chest. “Yeah. I—I’d like that.” 

His face spreads into a huge grin. “Good.”

When he’s ready to pull out, she manages to take a shower first at her apartment before he picks her up that evening. He takes her out to dinner somewhere public where he’s able to show her off to the world, never keeping his hands off of her.

But it doesn’t matter to her because the only one she wants to be seen by is him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that. Please let me know if you do 👉👈 
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ch4rliebarbers).
> 
> Check out my other Charlie Barber fics:
> 
> — (CW: breeding, pregnancy, two-shot, MIND THE TAGS): [Use Somebody ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574685/chapters/70029840)  
> — (CW: infidelity, 26 chapters, COMPLETE): [Is There Somewhere?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24817549)


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